I like everything to be perfect. Everything. Me, my apartment, my job, my friends. I like it the way I want it. Which, naturally, causes a multitude of problems. Earlier this month, I finished the hardest semester of school I’ve ever had. The material was brand new and challenged a lot of my previous philosophies of teaching. The professor was wonderful, but demanding. In a life already filled with a full time job, family, and friends, I was trying to be the perfect student, too. There were times when I failed at all of it miserably.